


Perennial

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 04:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Sam won’t be needed much in the winter.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Perennial

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

A single fleck of snow lands squarely between Sam’s knees, staining the otherwise immaculate emerald grass of Bag End. Sam stares at it in horror. He sucks in a breath and dares to look up towards the sky, praying he misunderstood. But he hasn’t. The snow has started drifting down. He can feel two flakes melting into his hair. He swiftly pulls his trowel out of the ground and resumes his work at double speed. He knows he’ll be able to finish tending the hedge before it gets too bad—that isn’t why his heart is racing. He always _hates_ this time of year, at least in this regard, when he’s knee-deep in soil and knows the snow’s coming to bury all his work. The Shire will look beautiful when the first white blanket’s down, but that won’t make up for this loss.

“Oh,” Frodo’s melodic voice drifts over his shoulder. Sam freezes and turns to look—Frodo’s just emerged from his open door. His hands lift, eyes up to the sky. “It’s snowing...”

A flake lands on his nose. He laughs happily, because he can always seem to find the good in things, or at least, _art_ in the _right_ things. Sam’s heart beats just that little bit harder. For a moment, he gets lost in silly daydreams—how fun it used to be to play with Frodo in the snow when they were both children, and how cute Frodo looks now when he’s bundled up in scarves. Frodo turns to smile at Sam and comments lightly, “I suppose the garden will be covered over, soon.” Then something flickers through Frodo’s eyes, and his smile hesitates.

Sam murmurs, “Yeah.”

Frodo muses, “I suppose you won’t have to come by as often.” His face slips into a frown that Sam mirrors. He still will do little touch ups, checking that the plants will survive the winter, but he won’t be around nearly as much. He’ll have lost his best excuse to sit outside Frodo’s window, listening to him sing.

There’s a long, awkward pause, where the two of them just look at one another, the sad realization sinking in. Then Sam’s cheeks flush at his own stupidity, because he’s had a ridiculous idea, but he’s desperate so admits it anyway. “I could come by to build you some nice snow sculptures, if you’d like.”

Frodo’s smile grows right back. He says, “That would be lovely, Sam. You’re welcome here any time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo.”

“Not at all. And if you get cold... well, you can always come in for some tea...”

“Could I?”

“Yes. Although, not that you necessarily have to be cold for tea...”

“That’s awfully kind of you.”

“Well, I have a lot of it.”

Sam’s smiling wide. They’re both smiling at one another, and it’s delightfully infectious—pleasant enough to counteract the growing dampness of the falling snow. 

Frodo asks, “Would you like some tea now?”

Sam’s not particularly thirsty. But he’s always interested in more Frodo Time, so he answers, “I’d love some.”

Frodo laughs. He nods back towards the house, thrusting his hands into his pockets and disappearance through the rounded door. Sam forgets his trowel entirely. He rushes up onto his feet and hurries after, knowing full well he’ll show up all year round.


End file.
